It occurred to me then that I was the opposite of my father. Because I was very, very good at destroying things.

Once upon a time I would’ve leaped at the rare opportunity of curling up with Mom on the couch. But now it sort of felt like too little too late. I had someone else waiting for me.

Avoiding a bathtub because your parents tried to kill you in one isn't the same as avoiding your entire life by becoming a wolf.

My father said once that if I didn't have my mother's ginger hair, I wouldn't blush or curse as easily. Which I though was unfair. I hardly ever curse or blush, even though I've had plenty of days that required both.

It was possible that I'd thrown one too many Molotov cocktails over God's fence.

Boys,' she says, 'just aren't very good at being afraid.

we're watchers of this world aren't we? not players